


Stamp Your Love

by orchis



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Finntrospection, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, OTP Feels, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 18:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14624123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchis/pseuds/orchis
Summary: Poe turns around when he hears the door opening, and his expression changes when he sees Finn. Finn has tried to be more subtle when studying Poe’s face, but he figures he’s as obvious as he was with Karé earlier. There’s something about it - he looks so tired, eyes sunken and dark shadows under them, his facial hair more like stubble than shadow, and the lines of his face deeper, like he’s in constant tension. But when he looks at Finn, something shifts, ever so slightly. Like now, he blinks, and his features soften for a second, and he manages not exactly to smile, but to not frown.Finn studies people's faces, and has a massive crush on Poe.  It's mostly Finn and Poe, with short appearances by Karé Kun and Rey.





	Stamp Your Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/gifts).



> Happy birthday, gloss! I'm so happy you're alive in the world, and that we get to share our time in this planet. Here's your present - a little something with this ship we both love and that brought us together. I love you. 
> 
> My eternal gratitude to galacticproportions for being the kindest and most thorough beta, cheerleader, friend, and then some. 
> 
> Title inspired by Juan Luis Guerra’s awesome song, _Tus besos_ :  
>  _Porque tus besos se han quedado en mi cara, mujer_  
>  Son como sellitos de amor en mi piel
> 
> (Because your kisses remain on my face, woman  
> They’re like little stamps of love on my skin)

 

Karé stretches her arms above her head, and drops her shoulders afterwards to yawn loud and long. Finn observes her, the way her brow scrunches up and her mouth opens big, showing her teeth and her tongue. When she finishes, she closes her mouth, blinks a couple of times and frowns at Finn.

“What?” she says. They’re sitting, facing one another, in a hallway close to the makeshift sleeping quarters in the Falcon. Most people who don’t have a shift have retired to sleep, or are having conversations like this one, scattered through the ship.

Finn looks away from Karé a second too late. “Sorry,” he says. “Bad habit.”

“Staring at people?” she asks. She sounds more amused than angry, so Finn just nods. He tries to explain it to her as best as he can without making it sound like he’s asking for any form of pity or making himself look good. (He always feels like people expect something of the sort whenever he brings up his past in the First Order, but really, he’s just bringing it up the way everyone else mentions a memory - it’s his past, and that’s all there is to it.)

He manages to put it into a few words. “Well,” he begins, “in the Order, I kinda learned to pay a lot of attention to people’s faces. Got into the habit of studying them. Anyone who wasn’t wearing a helmet, that is. I don’t know why I did it - I got bored of staring at helmets all day long, so whenever I saw a face I tried to see everything that person was telling me, not just hear their orders or whatever.”

Karé nods. “Fair enough.”

“And I keep doing it even though I’m not wearing the helmet anymore and people can tell that I’m actually staring,” Finn says, and leans back against the wall. The floor of the ship clanks as he bends his knees and rests his wrists on them. “I know it’s rude for some people. Sorry.”

At that, Karé smiles. “It’s cool. Reminds me of--well, it’s not the same, obviously, but when we were in the Academy, we had to wear this hideous uniforms. They were like the orange suits we wear, but an ugly, murky, light brown. Tanhe used to say they were shit-coloured,” she adds, and smiles even more. Finn doesn’t find it that amusing, but he returns the smile out of politeness. “Anyway, that means every time we had a day off to go explore the town, we would dress up as best as possible in order to show that we had some sense of style.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in civilian clothes,” Finn says.

“Well, that’s a real shame, because I’m very stylish,” Karé says. Then, as if she catches up with her own words and feels a little embarrassed of her cockiness, she adds, “Not that it matters anymore.”

Finn doesn’t say,  _ maybe one day we’ll be able to worry about style again _ , because that’s the kind of thought likely to make him anxious and throw him into despair. Who knows if those days will come. Instead, he asks, “What about Poe? You were together in the academy, weren’t you? Was he stylish?”

He hopes the question seems casual, that Karé doesn’t suspect Finn’s trying to squeeze information about Poe out of anyone who knows him. He doesn’t know what he’d say if confronted, but he also doesn’t want to stop any time soon.

Karé snorts, and rolls her eyes. “Hell, no! But he learned, luckily, as that handsome jacket you’re wearing testifies,” she adds, pointing her chin at Finn.

Finn looks down at his own chest, traces the front of the jacket with his fingertips. It’s almost miraculous that BB-8 managed to rescue it from their mission to destroy the tracker. Finn feels like the jacket is a gift that’s been handed to him multiple times now, and it makes him treasure it more and more as time passes. He’s smiling now.

Karé yawns again. “Not so sure about his craftsmanship on that mending, but stylish he became,” she says.

Finn looks up, frowning. He feels defensive all of a sudden. He remembers the way he traced the staples, how wonderful it felt - a thing that was mended instead of discarded, and that Poe had him in his thoughts long enough to do it. It made him feel conflicted back then because he didn’t feel like he belonged in the Resistance. And despite that, he was so touched by it that Karé’s light joke seems to hit him somewhere tender.

Before he can protest, though, Karé rubs her face, and says, “Speaking of which - I should go find him. His shift is over soon, I think.”

Finn nods. “Yeah, but you look like you need a nap.”

“Oh, it’s not my turn to pilot, it’s Rey’s,” Karé explains. “But you know how the Commander is,” she says, frowning.

Finn knows what she means. Things haven’t been so great since they left Crait, and Poe sometimes takes double shifts at piloting the Falcon even though he really shouldn’t and he doesn’t have to. He says it’s so others can catch up on sleep, he says he’s fine, but everyone can see right through him, even those who don’t know him as well as Karé. 

Finn stands up. “I’ll go find him,” he says. “You should go to bed.”

Karé opens her mouth to reply, but Finn shakes his head. “It’s okay, really. You need the rest. Plus, with a little luck, I’ll be able to convince Poe to go to sleep, too, and I won’t be up much longer.”

“Thanks,” Karé says, nodding. Finn helps her up, and they go in opposite directions.

It’s been like that for the past few days, ever since Karé and the rest of Black Squadron joined them, and they all hopped into the Falcon in search for a new base. Everyone is always reminding everyone to eat or sleep - and sometimes, with less kindness, to hit the fresher. It’s the opposite of the rigid structure Finn was used to until so recently, and he kinda likes it this way. He wishes, though, that everyone could rest a little more, eat more, feel better.

_ Maybe one day, _ he tells himself, but his despair is pushed to the side of his mind when he enters the cockpit and finds Poe in the pilot chair. He’s alone, as expected, and looking out of the viewport even though there isn’t much to be seen when you’re in the hyperlane.

Poe turns around when he hears the door opening, and his expression changes when he sees Finn. Finn has tried to be more subtle when studying Poe’s face, but he figures he’s as obvious as he was with Karé earlier. There’s something about it - he looks so tired, eyes sunken and dark shadows under them, his facial hair more like stubble than shadow, and the lines of his face deeper, like he’s in constant tension. But when he looks at Finn, something shifts, ever so slightly. Like now, he blinks, and his features soften for a second, and he manages not exactly to smile, but to not frown.

“Hey, Finn,” he says. “What’s up?”

“Your shift is over,” says Rey, appearing behind Finn and making him jump into the cockpit, startled.

“Can you not do that!” he says. “Can you please, please stop sneaking up on me?”

Rey smiles. She didn’t use to, at first, but spending so much time with everyone, especially Leia, Rose and Finn, is changing that. “It’s fun to make you jump like that, though.”

Finn frowns, and he’s about to protest some more when Rey sidesteps him and enters the cockpit.

“Okay, time to go,” she says to Poe. She stands in front of him, still as her staff.

To Finn’s surprise, Poe doesn’t try to argue with her this time. Maybe Kaydel’s idea was right, and switching the shifts around so Rey is always after Poe is the solution to Poe refusing to move from the cockpit every time his replacement shows up.

“All yours,” he says, and steps away from the seat.

“Any news?” Rey asks. Poe shakes his head.

“We should switch lanes in--”

“Three hours, yeah,” Rey says. She’s checking their itinerary in the data pad they keep next to the controls. “No problem.”

Poe nods. “Sure. Thanks, see you later.”

He looks at Finn, expression dark and sombre again, and nods to him briefly.

“Hey,” Finn says, before Poe walks out. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Poe blinks, as if awakening from a dream. “Me?”

Finn nods.

“Sure, buddy,” he says. “Of course.”

Finn says goodbye to Rey, and he and Poe step outside the cockpit.

“Can we go somewhere else?” Finn says, and gestures with his head towards his right.

He’s not sure where to go, or what to talk to Poe about. His little task - getting Poe out of the cockpit - has already been achieved. He could try to get Poe to sleep, but he panicked when Poe seemed willing to say goodbye so soon, and now Poe’s following him down a hallway towards the small cargo room that they’ve refitted as the laundry room.

Finn decides to head for that room, for lack of better ideas. He could try to discuss laundry shifts or the advantages of thrifting another washer. Maybe he can bore Poe to sleep with this chat.  

They finally reach the laundry room, and they get inside. There are several crates with clothes and bedding - mats and a few pillows and blankets - some awaiting washing and some drying, hanging from wires in front of the vents. There are some old washing machines that Rose repaired on the walls, and a sturdy metal table at the centre.

Finn closes the door behind them. Poe makes a beeline for the table and sits on top of it. After a moment of hesitation, of trying to figure out what he’s gonna say, Finn gets on the table next to him. Their feet dangle, and Finn looks at their boots for a moment, wondering what he’s really doing here.

“So, what’s up?” Poe asks him, and Finn has to turn and look at his face.

It’s unfair how handsome Poe is, even with the exhaustion and stress showing in his features. Finn gulps, and wishes he’d planned this. He decides for honesty. Kaydel, Karé and Rose are always insisting how it’s important to talk about things and not bottle them inside. He thinks it’s because they’re very chatty, but maybe there’s some truth to their advice. 

“I kinda just wanted to be alone with you,” Finn says.

Poe blinks. “Oh?”

Finn shrugs. “I… is that okay? I know lately you’ve been…” he stops. Looks away for a moment, decides to start again. “I don’t know if  _ lately  _ is the right way of phrasing things. I haven’t known you for that long, so I don’t have a previous behaviour to compare it with, but you’ve been spending a lot of time on your own and, to be honest, it seems like it’s making you more tired and more stressed than not.”

Poe opens and closes his mouth. He rubs his face. “Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry, buddy. I never meant to worry you.”

Finn shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not so terrible to worry about other people.” He thinks about his life in the Order, about all the dressing-downs and the punishment he had to face for helping someone stand up after they’d fallen, or for expressing concern about another person’s well-being, inside and outside their mission simulators. Sitting here with Poe, that life feels so far away. He  _ can  _ care. This is what he chose. “It’s kind of a privilege. I want to care,” he adds, and hopes Poe will understand.

Maybe Poe does, because he looks less conflicted now, eyes focused on Finn like he’s the most fascinating person he’s ever seen, lips parted slightly, the hard lines in his face disappearing a little. “Okay,” Poe says. “But I still don’t want you to give you, or anyone, reason to worry. You can care without worrying.”

“I guess,” Finn says. “But me worrying isn’t the point here. I mean, the point is you not sleeping well or…” Finn waves his hand, “you know.”

Poe knows. There’s no denial in his face, no trying to hide anything in the way he shrugs. “I’ve had some trouble adjusting, I guess,” Poe says. Before Finn can express any sympathy, though, Poe adds, “But so does everyone else. Hell, grief and pain aren’t exclusive to me. I just don’t wanna add mine to everyone else’s.”

Finn slides closer, puts his hand on Poe’s shoulder. “I think everyone sees you struggling, even if you try to keep it to yourself. And we’re all together in this - we’re the Resistance, aren’t we? You said that’s where I belong. That’s where you belong, too.”

Poe stays silent for a long moment, lips pressed together. At last, he nods, relaxing his expression. He licks his lips. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try to, I don’t know, not be such a grumpy fart.”

Finn chuckles, finding it funny despite being fundamentally against Poe’s self-deprecation. “That’s not what I meant!” he says. “I’m not asking you to be cheery or to be okay. None of us are. You don’t have to be okay to be around us. Around  _ me _ .”

Poe blinks, the movement of his lashes a dark blur that distracts Finn for a second.

“What do you mean, Finn?” he asks.

Finn licks his lips. Honesty, he reminds himself, and goes on, “That’s a very good question and, to be honest, I’m not sure about the answer.”

Poe narrows his eyes and lifts his chin just a fraction. His lips are suddenly pouty, and Finn doesn’t know if he’s doing it on purpose. That is one of Poe’s thinking faces. At last, Poe speaks again, “Maybe I can help you find the answer?”

That makes Finn hold his breath. He feels warm under his skin, wants to get warmer yet. 

“Poe…” Finn says. He wants to get closer to Poe. Maybe he does know what he wants, what he was looking for when he brought Poe here, and he can read that same desire in Poe’s features, in the way he swallows and licks his lips and has his eyes fixed on Finn’s face. “Can I kiss you?”

Poes doesn’t respond, he just leans forward, grabs Finn’s face, and smacks their lips together. Finn’s heart jumps in his chest, and he thinks,  _ so, this is what kissing Poe Dameron feels like _ . Poe’s enthusiastic, purposeful - he slips his tongue inside Finn’s mouth and Finn sucks on it, delighted, feeling the thrill down his spine. He slips off the table and pulls Poe closer towards the edge. Poe brackets Finn between his legs, crosses his ankles behind him, bring his hands back up to hold Finn’s face in place. Finn’s touching him everywhere he can, Poe’s curls, tangling and tossing them; Poe’s biceps, so much stronger than they seem at first and always, always hidden by his shirts; Poe’s back; the curve of Poe’s hips and ass.

“Finn,” Poe says, amidst a gasp.

“Yeah?” Finn asks, pulls back a little.

“No, no, no,” Poe says. “Don’t stop. Please.”

Finn smiles. He must be flushing - his face is burning, and his skin is prickling, restless, demanding more access to Poe’s skin, to his touch.

“Touch me?” Poe asks, eyes downcast, tip of his fingers stroking Finn’s neck.

Finn kisses him again, hunger running through his veins, and squeezes his hand between them to cup Poe’s bulge through his clothes. Poe moans in response, pulls away from Finn’s mouth just enough to breathe, but Finn wants no rest. He bends his head and brushes the stubble of his jaw with his lips, kisses Poe’s neck, and delights in the way Poe shivers when Finn nibbles on his skin, sucks on the tendon, licks.

“Damn,” Poe mutters, and drops his head on Finn’s shoulder. He rolls his forehead a bit, like he’s shaking his head, and Finn puts his arms around him, rubs circles on his back.

“What?” he asks, after a moment, not sure what to do. He can’t trust his reading of Poe right now, he can’t trust his own desire and hopes to let him see what Poe’s truly projecting. “Are you okay?”

Poe chuckles, and looks up at him. He kisses Finn again, just a peck on the lips. “More than okay, buddy,” he says. “Excellent. Amazing. Great. Incredible.”

Finn grins. “Good…”

“You?”

“Brilliant. Outstanding. Beyond great.”

Poe grins, goofily. “Man!” he says, and shakes his head. “Can you kiss me some more?”

“Yeah,” Finn replies, and obliges. He’s starting to lose his thoughts, restless little nags quieting down and making room for one big thought, one great purpose that he can’t quite verbalize. Pleasure, surely, but something else, too.

He’s both hyper aware of every sensation and mindless at the same time. It’s almost automatic, how he takes off his jacket, how he takes off his shirt when Poe starts sliding his fingers underneath, how his own hands are working open Poe’s belt and fly, how he traces Poe’s dick through the fabric of his briefs. Poe moans when Finn squeezes, and his mouth stays open. He throws his head back and Finn takes the opportunity to kiss his neck again. He’ll probably leave a mark. He wants to - something else to look at, a physical memory of this time, of what they’re doing.

He pulls Poe’s dick out through the slit in his briefs and starts stroking. Poe moans and thrusts forward. “Finn,” he says, this time louder, clearer. “Finn, Finn…”

“Yeah?”

“Wait a little,” he says, voice low, hoarse. “Can we…” he heaves, tries to catch his breath. He pulls back a little, holds onto Finn’s shoulders. “Fuck, you’re so fucking handsome.”

Finn blinks. He smiles, feeling a little like Poe is squishing his heart. “Thanks,” he says. He’s not sure what else he’s supposed to reply. “So are you,” he says, because it’s true. There’s a reason why he prefers to study Poe’s face above everyone else’s - not just how expressive he is, but everything else. His jaw, the curve of his nose, the colour of his lips, his big eyes that always look a bit tired, like they can barely hold the weight of his thick lashes. All the angles and shadows and lines.

“You’re staring,” Poe says.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Poe says. “I don’t mind it. Not now.”

“But you mind sometimes?”

Poe sighs, looks away for a moment, like he’s gathering his thoughts. “Sometimes I don’t feel so great, and I don’t wanna be looked at.”

Finn nods. He thinks he can understand now: he’s felt, every so often, a little nostalgic for his helmet. Not for the Order, never that - but he wishes sometimes that he could hide his face, that he weren’t an open datapad for anyone to read.

“But right now,” Poe says. He’s smiling. “I wanna blow you. That’s how I want you to look at me - with your cock in my mouth.”

Finn’s dick twitches inside his breeches, growing increasingly, painfully tight at the thought. “Yeah,” he says. “You totally should do that.”

Poe slides off the bench and pushes Finn’s chest until his back meets the wall next to the door. Finn has the mind to check, quickly, that the door is locked, before Poe kisses Finn some more, letting his hands wander down his chest to caress and pinch his nipples. Finn pulls him closer, pushes Poe’s pants down a little so he can feel the skin on his ass and knead it. He’s feeling increasingly light-headed and adrift. It’s fucking amazing.

Poe’s kisses start to lower their targets, first to Finn’s jaw, then his neck. Finn’s trying to get his own fly undone and pull out his dick, wonders if Poe would find it hot if he pushed him down to his knees and slapped his face with his cock. It’s not what Finn wants to do, not exactly - he’s always been a bit more for tenderness, but he knows some guys love that. He wonders what are Poe’s lines and limits, what’s the right amount of force he enjoys, if he likes being in charge or if, as Finn suspects, he likes to relinquish a little bit of control.

He can’t wonder for much longer. Poe bites his clavicle and Finn’s dick is finally out of his clothes. Poe gets a hold of it, circles his fingers around it, and Finn pushes him downwards a little, a suggestion rather than a demand.

Poe goes with the flow, lips dropping kisses all over Finn’s chest and stomach, and finally, finally, he’s on his knees on the floor, facing Finn’s cock. Poe bites his lower lip and looks up at him. His teeth are turning his lip white, and it’s like he’s grinning and moaning at the same time. His eyes are shining, his face and neck flushing dark. Finn wonders about the skin under his shirt, if it’s flushed and warm too, and feels like an idiot for not having taken Poe’s shirt off earlier.

But now Poe’s smiling fully, something like the delirious grin he gave Finn when he agreed to fly them both out of the Finalizer in a TIE Fighter.

_ We’re gonna do this _ , Finn thinks, and finds himself grinning back, out of breath.

“Come on,” he says, thrusts his hips just a tiny bit, still calculated, still a suggestion.

Poe starts stroking Finn’s dick, other hand cupping his balls, and Finn takes in a sharp breath through his nose. He wants to throw his head back and lose himself, close his eyes - but he also wants to look at Poe, see his face, as he promised, as Finn fucks it. He doesn’t have to wait long - Poe’s kissing the tip, circling it with his tongue, tip of his tongue tracing the slit, and Finn moans.

“Fuck, yeah, more,” he says, out of breath. “More, more,” he chants, and Poe obliges. He takes more and more of Finn into his wet mouth. It feels like it’s burning, igniting every single pore in Finn’s skin, pulling something out of him as Poe sucks, as he kisses and traces the veins in the shaft with his lips and tongue. Finn pulls at Poe’s hair a little tighter and tries not to thrust forward mindlessly, but he’s quickly losing control. Poe’s working him almost with reverence, lips and tongue and mouth and throat, pulling in and out, swallowing, sucking, sucking, sucking.

Then, Poe pushes away, slowly, fingers still holding onto Finn’s dick, and licks his lips.

“You taste so damn good,” Poe says. “So much better than I imagined.”

“So you imagined it?” Finn asks, and he feels something similar to when he stroked the jacket with his fingertips to trace the way Poe had repaired it.

Poe drops his head, a little embarrassed. He scratches his temple, looks away. “Yeah, well. I have. A few times.”

Finn traces the shell of his ear and tugs him closer to his dick again. “Me, too.”

Poe lights up again. His fingers go up and down Finn’s length, barely touching the skin, teasing him.

Finn sighs. “I wanna come,” he says. “On your mouth and your chin and your tongue and - fuck,” he says, gasping as Poe’s mouth descends upon him again, taking him in and out, fingers tightening around his dick and pumping it, coming up to meet his lips as he fucks his face on Finn’s cock. Poe’s other hand is massaging his balls, stroking his taint, and Finn finds himself opening his legs a little bit wider to give him access, as much as his pants, trapped above his knees, allow him, and finds his hands tangling in Poe’s curls and taking over the rhythm. He feels his muscles growing tighter and tighter, hips thrusting now, loves the sounds Poe’s making, the look in his eyes before they shut and he abandons himself to Finn, the way his lips are all swollen and flushed and wet.

Then Poe sucks on his dick, hard, one last time, and Finn’s orgasm hits him like a blaster, his come spilling out into Poe’s mouth, down his throat. Poe pulls away and gets a few drops on his chin and lips.

Finn’s legs feel weak. More importantly, he desperately needs to kiss Poe, so he drops down to his knees. He tastes himself in the kiss, licking Poe’s mouth clean and pushing him down onto the floor. Before he knows it, he’s already grabbing for Poe’s dick, stroking him harder and harder as the kiss deepens. Poe holds his face, won’t let him take a breath, won’t let him pull away, and Finn’s happy to stay, body covering Poe, bracing himself on one elbow and using his other hand to jack him off.

He can feel Poe’s body getting tenser, his hips thrusting up faster, his breath getting shorter. The noises coming out of Poe’s mouth are so needy and delicious, little whimpers and moans and gasps, Finn’s name every so often, whispered hoarsely. Finn wishes he could drink those noises, that he would somehow get them branded into his skin, that he could look at them whenever he wants to and re-listen to them, to remind himself of how Poe feels right now, to never forget, to re-live.

Poe doesn’t last long. He moans against Finn’s mouth, holding onto the back of Finn’s neck and arm, and thrusts his hips upwards one last time. He stays still for a glorious moment, spilling between Finn’s fingers. As Poe’s muscles start to relax and the grip on Finn’s nape and bicep loosens, Finn kisses him softly, small pecks to his lips and jaw. He doesn’t want Poe to let go. He doesn’t want to move, or rearrange their clothes, or leave. He wants to stay with Poe just a little longer.

At last, he pulls away just enough to look at Poe, who smiles at him and blinks lazily. “Hey, buddy,” he says. His voice is still low, a bit raspy, and Finn finds he likes it like this.

Finn can’t help grinning. “Hey yourself.”

Poe’s face is transformed. He’s still so handsome it makes Finn’s chest hurt, but he’s smiling and there are wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his expression soft and open. Finn realises Poe hasn’t smiled like this in a while. He doesn’t know if Poe’s the kind of person who smiles a lot - he seemed like it, when they first met, even in the aftermath of torture and the midst of battle. But things have been tough for everyone. He wants to make Poe smile like this more.

“You okay?” Poe asks. “You look worried.”

Finn licks his lip, shakes his head. “I’m okay. I’m better than okay. I’m just…” he trails off.

Poe frowns. “What?”

Finn brings up his hand and presses the tip of his index finger between Poe’s eyebrows. “That. I haven’t seen you smile in a long time, not like this.”

Poe blinks, and his face softens again, so Finn’s fingers move, trace his brow, settle to cup Poe’s jaw gently. “I guess you’re right,” Poe says. “It hasn’t exactly been a stroll through the jungle lately, has it?”

“Is a stroll through the jungle supposed to be a good thing?”

Poe smirks. “Of course! It’s the best.”

Finn nods. “Well, yeah, then. It hasn’t been like that, I suppose-”  _ not with most of the Resistance being literally blown out of space _ , he doesn’t say, “-but this, right now,” he gestures between them, “isn’t too bad either.”

Poe’s smile only grows wider. He shows his teeth, lifts his chin just a bit when he speaks next. “I’d say it’s pretty fucking great, actually. Rivals the best stroll through the bestest of jungles.”

“Is that so?” Finn says, and there’s that weird flutter in his chest again that Poe seems very good at triggering. He kisses Poe again, deep and slow, not sure he can trust himself with words.

His elbow starts protesting after holding his weight on the hard floor for so long. Finn pulls away slightly, tries to shift his weight onto his other elbow. “I don’t wanna move,” he explains to Poe. “But my elbow hurts.”

“Kaydel washed some mats here not long ago. They should be dry now. So, we could,” Poe licks his lips, “we could sleep here, if you want.”

Either Finn’s getting better at reading Poe’s face, or he’s completely clouded by his own desires and expectations, because Poe looks equal parts hopeful and nervous. Finn didn’t know he wanted Poe to hope and yearn like he seems to be hoping and yearning, but he realises now that he does, and that maybe whatever it’s transpiring between them right now doesn’t have to end now, doesn’t have to stop. It can go on and grow.

“Yeah, I want that,” he says.

“Good,” Poe nods. He lets out a deep breath, kisses the corner of Finn’s mouth. It’s probably mean to be a quick gesture, but Finn chases Poe’s lips, kisses him more.

“Shall we?” Poe murmurs, after a moment, and pushes against Finn’s shoulder a little, but he’s still responding to Finn’s kisses, still searching for them. “Your elbow...”

“It’s okay,” Finn says. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine. Just-” he adds, between kisses. “Just a moment.”

Poe throws his arms around Finn’s neck, squishes Finn’s thigh between his. Finn holds him tight and brings him deeper into the kiss, and doesn’t let go.


End file.
